


lucky

by seiseijoh



Series: a level of trust [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Birthday Sex, Bottom!Iwaizumi, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dry Orgasm, Emotional Sex, Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Mild Painplay, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Riding, Safe Sane and Consensual, This is disgustingly sweet, Vibrators, and the next one, bottom!suga, it's an apology for the last one, iwa is very very in love, power bottom!suga, relationship backstory, service top!iwaizumi, top!oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28918401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiseijoh/pseuds/seiseijoh
Summary: It's Iwaizumi's birthday, and his boyfriends want to give him one to rememberaka Iwaizumi gets absolutely and thoroughly wrecked
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi
Series: a level of trust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120967
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131
Collections: expressions of love, my done reads





	lucky

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhh yeah this is a trilogy now oops
> 
> i don't have anything to say for myself except i've fallen into a hole with this universe and i can't get out. in case you don't remember/didn't read the note on the last one, this is set within the same universe as my i hate you (i've got you) series, but you don't need to have read those for this to make sense. i've collected all the fics in the universe under the expressions of love collection, so if you want more from this college!au then check that out
> 
> anyway uhhhhhhh have fun this is super soft

Iwaizumi is never going to understand just how he got _so fucking lucky_.

He’d been lucky enough to be invited to a third year’s party a month into his first year. He’d been lucky enough to catch the attention of a very pretty social butterfly, although he hadn't been able to catch his name before he’d fluttered off to compliment someone else. He’d been lucky enough to also catch the attention of one incredibly gorgeous Oikawa Tooru, who had not left him hanging and instead had been more than willing to find an empty room. He’d been lucky enough to forget to lock the door and so they’d been interrupted by someone desperate to get into the pants of the pretty social butterfly, and said butterfly who had very different ideas. A kick in the nuts later, and Iwaizumi was lucky enough to be properly introduced to Sugawara Koushi, who was never one to turn down a threesome invitation from someone as audacious as a half-naked Oikawa.

He’d been lucky enough to be able to hold their attention for more than two months – two months of hook ups and hangouts with one and/or the other, slowly becoming closer until, nervous in a way Sugawara Koushi never was, he’d been asked if he wanted to make this a _thing_. Make it _exclusive_. Make it a _relationship_.

None of them had ever been in a polyamorous relationship before, but after an initial freak out from Oikawa, they’d decided to try.

And now, it’s nearly been a year since they made that decision, and Iwaizumi is lucky enough to have two beautiful, amazing boyfriends who are determined to make sure he has the best birthday ever.

He is, however, slightly concerned by the predatory looks in their eyes.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa drawls, flinging his arms around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

He’s mildly tempted to shove him off, but in the end, he lets him hang off his neck as he struggles to get his shoes off – they’ve barely gotten through the front door and already they’re on him.

“Shittykawa,” he admonishes, but relents. “Yes, I did.”

A second body presses itself against his back, and he turns his head just enough to see Suga resting his chin on Oikawa’s arm, smiling.

“Good,” Oikawa says. He knocks his forehead against Iwaizumi’s, grins. “Because it’s time for dessert.”

“We had dessert,” Iwaizumi says, deadpan. “Remember? You said it was _delectable_.”

Suga snorts, and Oikawa pouts. 

“The cake doesn’t count.”

“Really? That’s news to me.”

Oikawa huffs, and Suga backs away in time for him to let go of Iwaizumi and fold his arms petulantly across his chest. “Well, if you want to be difficult, maybe Kou-chan and I _won’t_ do what we planned, and you can miss out.”

“You can go sulk if you like,” Iwaizumi says. “Koushi and I can enjoy ourselves perfectly well without you.”

“Oh no,” Suga laughs, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder now that it’s free. His voice stays light, conversational, but his proximity and words make a shiver ripple up Iwaizumi’s spine. “Either you play nice and get the night of your life, or I’ll tie you down and you can watch while Tooru and I have fun.”

Iwaizumi swallows, clenches his jaw. “Well,” he smiles, heart rate already starting to pick up. “Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Please,” Suga scoffs. “You would enjoy both options immensely.”

Oikawa reaches up, cups Iwaizumi’s face with both hands, and kisses him. Iwaizumi expects something short and sweet, but Oikawa deepens it, tongue over his, and he’s left clutching onto the other’s shirt and gasping for breath. He stares up at him, and his body shifts unconsciously between pushing back against Suga and forward into Oikawa. His boyfriends have both said that being in his current position, in the middle, always makes them feel safe and protected – he doesn’t get it, but it does feel very, _very_ nice.

“So?” Suga asks, between kisses on the back of his neck. “What are you choosing?”

Oikawa’s watching him with that smug, calculating gaze he always has when he’s in a winning match. It takes Iwaizumi a moment to catch his breath, and he can't tear his eyes away as he answers, “I would love to see what you had planned.”

“Bedroom then, love.”

Oikawa leans forward and captures his lips again. Iwaizumi can do nothing but hold on and kiss back, follow Oikawa’s lead as he pulls him away from Suga and presumably towards the bedroom. He’s proven correct when the back of his legs hit the bed and he’s pushed down onto it. Oikawa follows him, sitting in his lap to continue licking into his mouth.

A lamp flicks on. Iwaizumi’s eyes flutter open when Oikawa pulls back for a moment – he’s half-backlit by the bedside light source, shadows soft as he focuses on unbuttoning his boyfriend’s shirt. He’s so fucking pretty – and Suga, in the background, stripping off without any sensuality, not even looking at him but it’s _Suga_ , and _Oikawa,_ with the tip of his tongue poking out and gaze narrowed in on the skin he’s exposing – they’re both so incredibly, perfectly gorgeous _and they’re his_.

How the _fuck_ did he get so lucky?

He’s paralysed, almost, until Oikawa pushes his shirt off his shoulders, throws it somewhere, and returns to kissing him. Iwaizumi tightens his grip on Oikawa’s shirt, pulls. Somewhere, he hears rustling but his attention is very quickly drawn away when Oikawa grinds down into his lap. The kiss breaks abruptly, Iwaizumi breathing hard, and Oikawa smirks.

“Are you going to undress me?” he asks, tossing in a roll of his hips for good measure. “Or are you just going to sit there?”

Iwaizumi really wants to make a smart remark, tell him he’s got hands and he’s capable of doing it himself. But his own hands betray him, move faster than his mouth, and fumble to get the buttons undone. Oikawa laughs, but it’s Suga, slotting himself against his back and looking down at Iwaizumi with a playful smile, who says, “We’ve got all night, babe. No need to rush.”

“We’re certainly not going to,” Oikawa adds.

Iwaizumi groans and drops his head to Oikawa’s chest. They’re going to be the _death_ of him.

His boyfriend shifts, making him look up, and the heat already curling in his belly burns a hundred times hotter at the sight of the pair meeting for a kiss, Oikawa’s head tilted back and hand in Suga’s hair. As their lips slide, Suga reaches down blind and undoes the buttons Iwaizumi’s trembling fingers hadn’t managed. Iwaizumi leans back, happy to let this happen, happy to watch these two utterly beautiful creatures make out in front of him.

When the shirt’s off and Suga’s running his hands over bare skin, Oikawa arches into the touch, moans into his mouth. Iwaizumi grabs the other’s hips and rocks him against him. The tight friction of his jeans feels simultaneously amazing and uncomfortable. He bites his lip and moves to unbuckle his belt, but just as he gets it undone, Suga and Oikawa separate, and the latter smiles down at him.

“Relax, Hajime,” he says, replacing Iwaizumi’s hands with his own and tugging open his jeans. “We’ve got this under control, okay?”

He doesn’t make any move to get off his lap, so Iwaizumi’s a little unconvinced – until Oikawa slips his hand between his jeans and underwear and rolls his palm over his dick. Iwaizumi’s breath stutters, and then it’s stolen completely as Oikawa kisses him again, his other hand curled around the nape of his neck with fingertips rubbing lightly at his hairline. Iwaizumi grabs hold of his waist, both to touch him and to keep him exactly where he is.

When Oikawa pulls back just a little, lips still brushing, he murmurs, “I’m not gonna have the chance to kiss you as much later on, so I’ve got to make up for it now.”

Iwaizumi blinks, inhales raggedly.

“Oh,” is all he manages to say.

Oikawa laughs. Behind him, Suga sniggers, and Iwaizumi tries to look around the body in his lap to see him but he’s dragged back against Oikawa’s lips, and it’s all too easy to melt against him.

There’s something to be said for a slow, steady make out. Oikawa is usually too impatient, too focused on fucking or getting fucked to think much about the time spent getting there – Suga is the one who likes to take things slow. So it’s nice to have Oikawa be the one languidly taking him apart, kiss him like he’s savouring it. He flexes his wrist, unhurried, making Iwaizumi groan into his mouth. The hand on the back of his neck drifts down, over his shoulder, down to his chest where it stays so he can tease a nipple with his thumb. Iwaizumi gasps, before swiftly sealing his mouth back over Oikawa’s to hide any more sounds even as he arches into the touch. Oikawa smiles against his lips, and after a few gentle circles, times a flick with the firm press of his palm against his dick.

Iwaizumi jolts, cursing under his breath. They know his chest is especially sensitive and constantly take advantage of it, the little shits. Oikawa kneads, pinches, and through the haze of arousal, Iwaizumi hears the sound of a lube bottle being uncapped. He tries again to look around Oikawa, to see what the hell Suga is up to, but once more he’s pulled back and distracted by Oikawa’s mouth.

“You two look so hot together,” Suga says from somewhere that is not directly in front of Iwaizumi and sliding his tongue into his mouth. Oikawa pulls back just long enough to say breathlessly, “You said that when you walked in on us, when we first met,” before diving back in.

Iwaizumi leans back on one hand, the other gripping Oikawa’s hip to give him the leverage he needs to grind up against the pressure on his dick.

“Fuck, yeah, with that guy,” Suga laughs, a little breathless himself. “He really thought he was going to get lucky. Wonder where he is now.”

Iwaizumi nips at Oikawa’s lips, uses the gap between them to growl, “Still not fucking you.”

He gets twin laughs at that, and the hand in his jeans disappears – but only for the length of time it takes to snake into his underwear and wrap around his dick. Iwaizumi’s breath catches in his chest, his hips jump.

“You really do look so good together,” Suga says. “I could watch you for hours – fuck, can we do that one day? I wanna watch Tooru break you down.”

Iwaizumi swallows the needy whine that nearly escapes, and instead says, “Tooru doesn’t have the patience.”

Oikawa pouts and pinches his nipple sharply. “I could.” Then, more sultry and seductive, he smiles and twists his wrist, slides his thumb under the head of his dick and, over Iwaizumi’s gasp, says, “I like making Iwa-chan fall apart.”

“All you’re doing,” Iwaizumi bites, tugs him closer by the hip, “is being a little shit. Get on with it.”

“Get on with what?” Oikawa asks far too innocently for someone who’s trailing teasing fingers over his dick.

“I thought you two had plans.”

“Well, _someone's_ impatient.” Oikawa’s breath ghosts over his lips. “And I don’t think it’s me.”

Iwaizumi glares. He rocks up into his hand, tries to kiss him again, but Oikawa pulls away. He stands up, making Iwaizumi groan at the loss.

“Lie down, then,” he says.

Iwaizumi forces himself to not rush, even as Oikawa climbs back on top of him and reaches over to make sure he's propped up comfortably on the pillows. Once he’s satisfied, he drops his hips down against Iwaizumi's – they’re both still clothed, which Iwaizumi isn’t thrilled about, but the friction is nice enough. And then he kisses him again, and Iwaizumi doesn’t think much about it anymore.

He moves to put his hands on Oikawa's waist, but he’s stopped by slim fingers around his wrists. He doesn’t fight it when Oikawa presses his hands to the bed above his head, isn’t really paying attention – until another set of hands replace Oikawa's and snap something around his wrists.

Oikawa leans back as Iwaizumi hums questioningly, looks up to see Suga attaching the handcuffs to the headboard.

“Interesting.”

Oikawa thumbs over a nipple and says, “We thought we'd do something different for you tonight.”

“Do you trust us?” Suga asks, smiling softly.

Iwaizumi glances between the pair and without hesitation, replies, “Of course."

Oikawa slides off him and he squirms a little at the loss before he catches himself. All they’ve done so far is kiss him – all _Oikawa’s_ done so far is kiss him. Aside from getting the cuffs on him, Suga hasn’t even touched him since they came into the bedroom. He shouldn’t be so worked up already.

Oikawa tugs at his jeans, and he lifts his hips to help him slide them and his underwear off, leaving him naked and splayed out on the bed for their viewing pleasure. He’d feel a little more awkward if he was the only one, but Suga’s naked as well, and Oikawa’s not far behind, struggling for a moment when his pants catch around his ankles.

“So, then,” he says, “Who’s fucking me tonight?”

Suga snorts. He climbs onto the bed and over Iwaizumi’s body to sit across his hips, wriggling to get comfortable. He runs his hands over the expanse of tanned skin in front of him and says, rather nonchalantly, “Tooru. But that’s much later.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth goes dry. They really do have a plan – not that he actually doubted it. He knows the pair of them too well to be fooled into thinking they don’t know exactly how the night is going to unfold. He swallows – hard around the dryness of his mouth – and once again only manages to weakly mumble, “Oh.”

“Is Hajime going to be good for us?” Suga teases.

It’s not really his thing, being praised and being good. He doesn’t mind it, but it doesn’t get him off like it does Oikawa, or Suga to a lesser extent. But the way Suga looks right now, the angles and planes of his lithe body softened by the lamplight and shadows, a devious glint in his eyes, smirking like the cat that got the cream – Iwaizumi would do anything this absolute god could ask of him.

He nods, blinks. “Yeah.”

Suga’s smirk breaks into a smile – as if he doesn’t already know just how whipped he is for the pair of them. And then he leans down, hands supporting himself on either side of Iwaizumi, and kisses him.

Kissing Suga is not like kissing Oikawa. Oikawa is fast, sharp, rapid-fire kisses. It's pouring gasoline on a bonfire. He wants what he wants, and he wants it now. Even when he slows himself down, savours like he had been just minutes ago, the irrepressible _need_ is always there, reminding Iwaizumi that a push in the right direction will get him the raging fire that burns underneath. Oikawa wants and wants, and Iwaizumi gives.

Suga is embers, burning low and quiet. He’s slow, slow, _slow_ , simmering, lingering heat. He can kiss hard and fast when he wants to, when he’s right on the edge and needs it, and it’s good, it’s _great_. But the way he kisses when he’s not pent up – it’s soft, it’s open and vulnerable. His tongue explores like he’s never been in Iwaizumi’s mouth before, like he wants to be there for centuries. Oikawa’s kisses scorch under his skin, and Suga’s kisses settle in his bones.

Iwaizumi loves both so, so much.

He’s vaguely aware of movement at the end of the bed, and then hands pressing his thighs apart. He lets them fall open, too caught up in the feeling of Suga’s lips on his to think about putting up any pretence of a fight. He likes to make them work for it, to push and tease before he lets them have what they want, but right now that doesn’t seem so important. Suga's giving, so openly, and it's all Iwaizumi can do to take it.

There’s the sound of a condom being opened, and lube, and for a split-second Iwaizumi’s a little confused, sure that there’s no way Oikawa would fuck him without prep. His suspicions are confirmed when it’s a finger that breaches him, and he exhales his relief into Suga’s mouth.

He doesn’t bottom as much as they do, and it always feels a little weird to start with. He squirms, shifts his hips, and when Oikawa asks, “Okay?”, Suga backs off just enough to let him answer, “Yeah, keep going.”

They settle into a pattern after that. Suga kisses him, mouths along his jaw and nips at his throat, and Oikawa works him open gently, carefully, the way he always does with Iwaizumi. With each finger added, there's a hand stroking his thigh, and Suga's tongue delves even deeper to distract him from the initial discomfort. Iwaizumi tries his hardest to stay afloat, stay focused, but the combination of Suga trailing his hands over his chest and three of Oikawa's fingers deep inside him don’t make it easy. And then Oikawa curls into his prostate, presses, and Iwaizumi moans.

“We don’t do this enough,” Suga murmurs as he sits back, looks down at him. “I know you prefer to top, but you really should bottom more often. You're fucking _gorgeous_ , Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sees the love, the utter adoration in his eyes, and he’s struck by the sudden urge to pull away. It’s so primal, so raw, so much to absorb. He knows Suga loves him, knows Oikawa loves him. He loves them, indescribably. But to see it reflected in Suga’s hungry eyes, like the only thing he could possibly ever want is to live this moment forever – it lights a violent flame, makes the low, pulsing heat in his belly burst throughout his body, a fire so hot and terrifying that he’s afraid it’ll consume him if he’s not careful.

“Love?”

Iwaizumi blinks, realises he’s closed his eyes. Suga’s looking down at him, and the hunger has faded a little, replaced with concern. Oikawa’s stopped moving, instead smoothing his thumb over his thigh.

“You in there?” Suga asks. “Everything okay?”

He nods, swallows. “M’okay.”

“Colour?”

“Green. I just…” He clenches his jaw, looks into Suga’s eyes helplessly. “I love you. Both of you. So much.”

“Oh, Hajime,” Suga says. The worry is still clear in his voice but it’s less now, fondness seeping in to fill the space. “We love you too. More than anything.” He cups Iwaizumi’s face, presses a kiss to his forehead, and when he pulls back, asks, “You sure you want to keep going?”

Iwaizumi nods, says hoarsely, “Yeah.” The moment has passed. He can breathe again without feeling like he’s going to combust, like he’s going to take them down with him with the ferocity of the flames. The fire has been beaten back, still licking along his nerves but only as pleasure now with every accidental shift of Oikawa’s hand, Suga’s body against his. It’s good. He’s good.

“Ready for more?” Oikawa asks, and although he can’t see him, Iwaizumi can imagine his smile, the precious little tilt of his head that he loves.

He nods again. This time, his voice is firmer. “I’m okay.”

Oikawa slips his fingers out, which really doesn’t feel like _more_ , but then, Iwaizumi considers, it probably means he’s going to fuck him now. He wriggles his hips, hoping to dispel the weird emptiness he feels but it just exacerbates it, reminds him that the fingers are no longer there and he’s rocking on nothing. He huffs, tries to peer around Suga to see what he’s doing, but Suga brings him back to face him and smiles.

“Patience,” he chastises.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Something prods, slides in, but it’s not a dick. Iwaizumi frowns – it’s Oikawa’s fingers again, still sheathed in latex and coated in lube, but there’s more. It almost feels like another finger, like he’s added a fourth to continue the stretch, but it’s firmer and the positioning isn’t right.

And then his head empties when whatever it is presses against his prostate and starts to vibrate.

His hips snap, jostling Suga before he can secure himself. A gasp punches out of his chest as his whole body tenses, shoulders straining, cuffs tight against his wrists. Suga’s saying something, but his entire focus is narrowed down on the shockwaves rippling through him.

Just as suddenly as it started, it stops. Oikawa’s fingers move, and the vibrations disappear, leaving Iwaizumi breathing hard and trembling.

“What…” he stammers. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

Suga and Oikawa laugh. He looks up blankly as Suga cards a hand through his hair comfortingly and says, “A vibrator, love.”

They’ve used vibrators and other similar toys before – he's both rewarded and tormented his boyfriends with them many, many times and, much more infrequently, they've been used on him too. But only as a tease along sensitive skin – never inside. He hasn’t been curious to try, and neither Oikawa nor Suga have ever brought it up. At least, not with him. The thought also briefly occurs to him that this particular toy has to be new. He’s well acquainted with the ones they own, and a vibrator that sits snugly against Oikawa's slender fingers is not one that he’s used or even seen before. He didn’t even know they made them so small.

“Colour?” Suga asks.

“Fuck, green,” Iwaizumi rushes.

Suga laughs again, soft. “We thought that, since you haven’t done this before, we’d get you something small and easy to take. Like it?”

He nods, jaw tight. Oikawa strokes his thigh, up to where it meets his hip, and Iwaizumi realises two things. One, he's still trembling, from the shock and the anticipation of _more_. Two, Oikawa's hand and Suga's ass are both very close to his dick, but not touching it, and he'd very much like something to be done about that. He cants his hips up, trying to shift something closer, but Oikawa's hand slides away and Suga presses his knees tightly against his waist to keep him still.

“Would you like more, Hajime?” Suga asks with a dangerous smile. “Is that why you’re squirming so much?”

“I said green,” Iwaizumi grunts. “Hurry up.”

“Babe,” Suga says, mock disappointment dripping from his words. “That's not how you ask. Ask nicely, and maybe Tooru will turn it on again.”

Iwaizumi glares. But he can't hold on to his frustration long – Suga is so, so pretty looking down at him, tracing feather-light patterns down his cheek and under his chin, head tilted as he waits. He relents, forces himself to remain still, and asks, “Please?”

Suga's smile widens. “Did you hear that, Tooru?”

“I did,” comes the smug reply. “But I don’t know what he's asking for.”

“Care to enlighten him, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi groans, rolls his eyes even as he feels the flush spread over his face. “Please turn it on,” he says, low, eyes averted.

“Not sure I heard that, love,” Suga says. “And if I didn't, Tooru certainly didn’t.”

Iwaizumi groans again. It's humiliating, the fact he's been brought to pleading already. They've barely done anything and he’s trembling, impatient for it. Suga's weight across his stomach is a grounding force, keeping him pinned but also reminding him of where he is, who's calling the shots here. He's a menace, and so is Oikawa, who’s squeezing his thigh as he waits for the plea Iwaizumi doesn’t want to give.

“Just tell us what you want, Hajime,” Oikawa says, “and you can have it.”

Suga smiles. He rubs his hands over Iwaizumi's chest, ending with a sharp pinch to both nipples which makes the other inhale sharply and try to twist away.

“We want to spoil you,” he says. “But we just want to make sure we’re giving you what you want.”

Iwaizumi swallows. Oikawa's hand shifts, the vibrator nudging deeper – Iwaizumi’s hips jerk.

With a deep breath, he gives.

“Please, turn it on. Touch me. Something. I need you to – to – "

Suga hushes him with a kiss, humming contentedly into his mouth. They’ve got what they want now; there’s no need to draw it out. Oikawa slides the vibrator back against his prostate, twists his hand a little, and turns it on.

The only way Iwaizumi can think of to describe it is that his body _lights_ up. It's not as much of a punch as the first time now that he’s expecting it, but it still draws another gasp from him, stolen breath from Suga's lungs. His hips shake, push down against Oikawa's fingers as they press, pull away, curl, his thighs and abs tensing with every movement.

Suga doesn’t let up either, lips on his and hands everywhere – in his hair, stroking his sides, rubbing over his nipples. For a moment, he slides one hand up Iwaizumi's arm and grips his bicep, like he's feeling for how taut the muscle is as it pulls against the cuffs. The simple touch makes Iwaizumi groan. Suga – and Oikawa – are both strong in their own right, a former and a current athlete, all lean muscle and boundless energy, but Iwaizumi is the most physically powerful of the three. And yet here he is, handcuffed and helpless beneath them, pleading for whatever they'll give him.

He's _so fucking lucky_.

He half-expects Oikawa to shut the vibrator off again, tease him a little more – the other half of his brain is slowly being consumed by heat and need and the sharp sensation of Suga's teeth in his lip. But it remains on, Oikawa rocking his fingers in deeper to both open him up a little more and find new angles with which to torment his boyfriend. The pleasure only builds, in his belly to expand outwards, until Iwaizumi is willing to swear on his life that he can feel it in his fingertips. It's electric, scorching hot, and growing – quickly.

“M'go-" Iwaizumi chokes, his words bouncing off the back of Suga’s teeth. “Come... gonna...”

“Just let it happen,” Suga breathes. “Enjoy it.”

He can't control the lower half of his body, can't sort what he's feeling inside and out – heels sliding on the sheets, toes curling, there’s an arm cradling his trembling thigh and something that might be a kiss pressed to his knee. He yanks on the cuffs, desperate to grab onto something. Suga kisses his temple and trails his fingers from his hair to cup his jaw.

“Kou – oushi,” he pants, voice tight, panicked. “I-I'm gonna...”

He's never been driven to orgasm like this. He's never come untouched before. The vibrations inside, the pulsing pleasure – they're not something he's ever experienced. Is this what it feels like for them, when the roles are reversed? Suga and Oikawa both love this, love being brought to the edge with fingers or a toy. They’re never afraid of their own body's reactions. But right now, Iwaizumi is. The edge is rapidly approaching and it scares him.

He knows he can safe word out, knows he can stop this in a second or even just slow things down. But as terrifying and new as this is... he truly does trust them. He has Suga's encompassing weight over him, Oikawa's lips dotting kisses across his thigh. They'll take care of him.

“Let go, love.” Suga raises his head just enough for Iwaizumi to look into his soft eyes, and he’s transfixed. “It's gonna feel so good, I promise. Come for us.”

It's almost as if it's on command. Iwaizumi swears, his hips snap up forcefully, abs tight, and it does, it feels _so good_. It tears through his body, violent, breath-taking.

But there’s something missing as well. The pleasure starts to ebb, but it doesn’t dissipate. There's no comedown – not a real one, anyway. When he’s got a hold of himself, he feels like he's already thirty seconds away from pitching over the edge again. It's then that he realises he hasn’t spilled, is still painfully, desperately hard. He hasn’t come – but he has. He rolls his hips, eyes shut tight, shaking his head mindlessly as he tries to filter the confusing feelings through his half-melted brain.

Oikawa's voice cuts through the haze. “Fuck, Koushi...”

There's a pause, and then –

“Oh, Hajime, was that good?”

Iwaizumi whines in the back of his throat in response to Suga’s pleased question. It’s not a yes, and it's not a no. He doesn’t _know_. His body is telling him he's come at the same time that it's warning him that he’s _close_. His hips jerk, sharp enough to jolt Suga.

“Hajime, Hajime,” he soothes, petting his face lightly. “It's a lot, I know. You want to come again, don't you?”

Iwaizumi heaves in a breath and nods frantically. The vibrator is _still fucking going_ , buzzing merrily away, and Oikawa's still twisting his fingers and teasing him with it, and he can barely think. It's all he can do to hang on to lucidity, clinging like a drowning man who's _terrified_ of going under.

“You’re okay, Hajime. I promise, you’re okay. You can come again. Tooru would love to see you come just for him, yeah? Come for him, let him see how gorgeous you look –”

If Suga says anything else, Iwaizumi doesn’t hear it. He cries out, clenching around Oikawa's fingers and the _fucking_ vibrator, throws his head back and comes.

It doesn’t stop.

It just. Doesn’t stop. Every muscle in his body is so tight, it's like he's trapped in it, an endless rush. He writhes to escape it, hips flexing as he chases completion, but he still hasn't spilled, is just caught in this pure, perfect, agony of coming without coming, pleasure without release. Oikawa still has his fingers inside him, prolonging something that Iwaizumi had no idea could last so long.

He can’t _breathe_. His lungs seize, sometimes stuck and sometimes forcing out choked gasps and half-bitten curses. He might die like this. He honestly might die like this, underneath his boyfriends while an unending orgasm rips through him.

What a way to go.

Finally, _finally,_ Oikawa eases off, slips his fingers and the vibrator out completely, and a few moments later, Iwaizumi’s pulled back. He’s light-headed, panting, entire body shaking – but he’s pulled back to where he was before, still needing to come but _so_ much more wrecked.

When he opens his eyes, his vision is a little blurred, and it takes a second to be able to see Suga's smiling face in focus.

“Hey,” Suga says softly, a little in awe, “You okay? What's your colour?”

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi wheezes. “Shit, fuck, I need – Koushi, I need – please, fuck, I -"

“Hajime,” Suga says firmly, gently tipping Iwaizumi’s head up to keep their eyes locked. “Listen to me. I need you to give me your colour.”

The question doesn’t even make sense. He _needs_ to come, more than anything else. It's the only thing he can think about, his brain fried, his nerves burning and sparking. His dick _hurts_ , he's so hard and so desperate.

And then, in a flash of clarity, the question does make sense, and he chokes out, “Green.”

“Good, Hajime,” Suga reassures him. “You've done so well. Tooru and I are so proud of you. You look so beautiful for us, so pretty when you come. Tell us what you need, and you can have it, love. Anything you want.”

Iwaizumi begs, “ _Touch me_.”

“Of course.”

Suga raises himself up on his knees, shuffles back. Iwaizumi barely has time to comprehend the sensation of a hand on his dick before it's gone again – replaced by tight, slick heat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps, pulling hard enough on the cuffs to make pain shoot down his arms.

Suga doesn’t move for a moment, just breathes. Iwaizumi watches, wide-eyed, as Oikawa slips his arms around him, head on his shoulder, hands framing his dick before taking hold. Suga shudders, hips kicking up into his grip, and the movement makes Iwaizumi want to _cry_.

Oikawa keeps one hand on Suga's dick, the other snaking up to tilt the other's face towards his. Suga allows himself to be manoeuvred into a kiss, brings a hand back to thread into Oikawa's hair, and for the second time that night, Iwaizumi finds himself watching two utterly _ethereal_ creatures make out in front of him. They’re so fucking _pretty_ , softened in the warm, low light, the wet sounds of their kissing quiet but audible. Suga arches his back, muscles stretching, while Oikawa pumps his dick slowly, lavishly. He nips at Suga's lips, twists his wrist on an upstroke, and the other whimpers, rocks his hips. Iwaizumi isn’t even sure if Suga is aware of it, but _he_ very much is. He tries to gain purchase, to fuck up into him the way his body demands, but nothing moves the way he wants it to – feet slip, hips stutter, shoulders tight and sore. He lets out a broken, ragged cry of frustration.

Suga and Oikawa break apart and look down at him, the latter's chin resting on the former's shoulder again. Iwaizumi stares at them, at their self-satisfied smiles and hazy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Need something?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi inhales sharply. “Please, Tooru, I... fuck, I wanna come, please.”

Oikawa tuts, shakes his head. “You just had two orgasms, and you want another one? Greedy, Iwa-chan.” But even as he says it, he lets go of Suga's dick and slides his hand comfortingly over Iwaizumi's stomach, squeezes his hip.

“It is your birthday, I suppose,” he says.

Suga adds, a little breathless, “The birthday boy can have as many orgasms as he likes, I think.”

Oikawa backs away to let Suga work. He moves to Iwaizumi's side, lounging casually and running his hand over the expanse of skin in front of him. Suga raises up on his knees and, right as Oikawa tweaks a nipple, he slams down hard, and Iwaizumi nearly comes there and then. He lets out a strangled moan, abs tight, shying away from Oikawa's touch. Suga huffs out a laugh, and begins to fuck himself in earnest on Iwaizumi's dick.

“You wanna come, Hajime?” Suga shifts the angle of his hips, gasps.

“Koushi,” Iwaizumi whines. “Fuck, Koushi...”

Suga’s thighs tremble, and Iwaizumi wants nothing more than to run his hands over them, squeeze, grab his hips, his dick, help him come. But he _can't_ , and it makes him whine again, yank harder on the cuffs, try harder to get his body to work and thrust into the wet heat enveloping him. He's more successful this time, and Suga moans as Iwaizumi fucks him out of rhythm, aching hips snapping with as much force as he can muster.

Oikawa continues to drag his fingers over Iwaizumi's chest, circling his nipples one at a time. Iwaizumi is aware of Suga's hand coming to his own dick, working himself closer to the edge as his body tightens, clenches – before Oikawa lowers his head and begins to suck, teasing the other between finger and thumb, and Iwaizumi's eyes roll back.

“I wanna feel you come, Hajime,” Suga pants. “Wanna make you feel good. Just let go, come for us.”

Iwaizumi thrusts up once, twice – his body is _so_ close to the edge, although the fear is still there, lurking in the ache and weakness of his muscles and holding him back. But it’s less now. He knows this, knows how to fuck Suga like he knows how to breathe. He thrusts again, Oikawa bites, _hard_ , and he cries out as he pitches over the edge.

He actually, really, properly _comes_ , releasing inside Suga, and the wave of relief that rushes over him is almost as good as the orgasm itself. He lets it all overtake him, surrenders to it as Suga’s knees tighten at his sides. His thighs spasm, his hips making little kicks as he comes down slowly, breathing heavily as Suga continues to grind and Oikawa continues to tug at his nipple with his teeth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans, helpless, with no way to escape the growing oversensitivity. The cuffs are supposed to be comfortable but his wrists hurt from how much he's pulling on them without pause. He shies away from Oikawa's tongue, but he can’t move far and he gets a sharp little nip for his efforts.

Suga throws back his head, the beautiful, elegant column of his throat exposed, and Iwaizumi is seized by the thought of getting his hands, his lips, his teeth on it. A second later, and Suga comes over his hand, biting his lip until he groans, “ _Hajime_.”

Iwaizumi arches his back, sucks in a deep breath. His whole body wants to go lax, heavy and exhausted, but his brain is darting between points of focus – mostly surrounding how his hands are still tied. He wants so desperately to run them over Suga's body, over the angles and dips of his muscles, feel the rise and fall of his chest. He wants to fist his hair, yank his head to the side so he can get his teeth on his unbruised neck. He wants to thread his fingers into Oikawa's hair, though he’s not sure if he wants to pull him away from his chest or hold him there - he's circling his tongue, occasionally sucking lightly, and it's starting to hurt now but it's also sending little zips of electricity along his nerves. He can’t decide what he's going to do first when they free him.

“Tooru,” he mumbles, his own tongue feeling thick and unwieldy in his mouth. “Off?”

Oikawa looks up, regards him curiously with that little tilt of his head. His lips are reddened, swelling, and so incredibly devourable - it's all he can look at. “Hmm?”

Iwaizumi tugs on the cuffs. “Uncuff me,” he tries again.

Oikawa holds his reply for a few moments, before he smiles and says lightly, “No, I don’t think I will.”

Iwaizumi frowns. He starts to speak again, but then Suga lifts himself up and off his softening dick, and his gaze shifts immediately. He watches as they switch places – Suga moving to lay by his side, propped up on one elbow, Oikawa between his legs. It's then that Iwaizumi remembers what Suga had said, what feels like hours ago now.

_“Who’s fucking me tonight?”_

_“Tooru. But that’s much later.”_

“Ready, Hajime?”

“Oh, fuck,” Iwaizumi groans, even as he nods. “Oh fuck, oh fu – _uuuck_.”

In the midst of his swearing, Oikawa lines up and pushes in, slowly, like he's going to take his time even though they all know he won't. Iwaizumi drops his head back, shudders as Suga takes the opportunity to run his fingertips over his Adam’s apple. He thought he might be numb after everything they've put him through, but it's the opposite - he's hypersensitive, can feel every achingly slow inch, every twitch and shift magnified. When Oikawa finally bottoms out, pauses, Iwaizumi can't _breathe_. His chest is tight, his shoulders, his body around Oikawa. If he relaxes for even a second he thinks he might just break apart, but he also _can't_ , can't make himself do anything except wonder how the _fuck_ he got so lucky.

Suga’s hand disappears as Oikawa braces himself over Iwaizumi, breathes over his lips.

“ _Hajime_ ,” he says, tense. “You feel so good, shit, colour?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t register the question until Oikawa asks again, a little more pained as he struggles to keep himself still until he has an answer. Then he blinks, looks into the eyes above him.

“Green... Tooru, I... I...”

He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Oikawa waits to see if he can form a sentence but he can't, just grits his teeth and shakes his head in frustration.

“It’s okay,” Oikawa soothes. “You’re doing so well, Hajime, you’re okay.”

And then he _fucks_ him, and not for the first time, Iwaizumi's head completely empties.

It's all he can do to keep breathing. He’s so oversensitive that every movement makes his head spin, makes him pull away and push towards. Suga sneaks a hand back to his chest, alternating between each nipple with pinches and tugs, and it makes his hips buck. Oikawa kisses him, swallows his weak whines.

“You've been so good, Hajime,” Suga says, “just like you said you would. Gonna make Tooru come?”

Iwaizumi tries to breathe in and chokes. Every other thrust is hitting his prostate, and each time he jolts, overstimulated. Oikawa reaches down with one hand, slips it under his hips and shifts the angle, and Iwaizumi shouts as now every thrust relentlessly hits the mark. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, and yet he tilts his knees inwards, presses his thighs to Oikawa's body and holds him between them as best he can. Suga's comforting hand slides over his chest, and then pinches a nipple sharply, nail catching, and Iwaizumi chokes on another breath as his dick jumps.

“Tooru...” he manages to whine, low and pleading but for what, he doesn’t know. “Koushi...”

“It's so much, isn't it, Hajime?” Suga says, smiling as he smooths his hand over his heated, burning skin. “But you’re taking it so well, love, you take Tooru so well. Look at you. You need it so badly, don’t you? Everything feels like too much, but you need more.”

Iwaizumi drops his head back, cries out. He’s right, it's _so fucking much_ and he's unconsciously pulling his hips back, away from Oikawa, because he's never been so overwhelmed with pleasure and pain and _everything_ before. But at the same time, his legs are locked against him, and the absolute last thing on his mind is stopping. He _needs_ it, _needs_ Oikawa to fuck him until the overstimulation sends him crazy, _needs_ him to keep panting and moaning and muttering about how fucking hot he is, how amazing he feels. He raises his head enough to meet Oikawa's gaze, and the other’s eyes are half-lidded, burning and vibrant. His lips quirk up into a smirk, and a second later Suga scratches hard across his chest and there’s something about the combination of it that makes his whole body shake with pleasure, makes him throw his head back again and whine. It’s not until he hears Suga reassuring him with a breathy, “That’s it, love, let Tooru give you what you need,” that he realises Oikawa is fucking him through another orgasm.

He’s going to _die_.

A particularly hard thrust has Iwaizumi squeezing his eyes shut, pressure building. He tries to force the tears back – it takes a lot to make him cry in everyday life, and he’s never cried during sex. But he can’t fight it. He’s not in control, too overwhelmed. A few slip past, and they mostly stay trapped in his lashes, but some drip and wet his temples. Oikawa swears, fucks into him hard enough to make his lower back arch off the bed, and then his hips stutter as he comes. The sensation, the warmth and fullness that he’s nowhere near as used to as the others, still makes him whine, makes him shudder and tighten as much of his body as he can around Oikawa, arms aching to pull him in the way the rest of him is. Suga, the cruel, awful creature that he is, pinches a raw nipple with the intent to hurt, purposefully digging his nail in, and in some far away part of his brain, Iwaizumi is surprised his back doesn’t snap with how suddenly and sharply he twists away, his scream catching in his throat.

He doesn’t relax, can't, until Oikawa pulls out. It’s like the action cuts the strings that are holding him together and he collapses limp against the bed, chest heaving as he struggles to breathe. He stares up at the ceiling blankly, vaguely aware of Oikawa’s slender hands firmly rubbing up and down his sides, Suga’s face coming into view as his wider palm cups his cheek.

“Babe?” Suga asks gently. “You okay?”

He can’t answer, not immediately. It’s not until he’s got some semblance of breath back that he can wheeze, “Y-Yeah.”

Suga’s huff of a laugh is soft, sweet. “Good. Just rest for a few minutes, okay?”

He swallows, blinks. “Can you… cuffs…”

“I got it,” Oikawa says quickly, and leans over to rummage in the bedside drawer for the key. It takes him a few seconds to find it but when he does, he hurries to unlock them. Once they’re off, he frowns and cradles Iwaizumi’s hands in his, swipes a thumb over his wrist.

“You pulled really hard; I think you’re going to bruise…”

The way he trails off makes it sound like he’s intending to continue, but Iwaizumi doesn’t let him. Instead, he focuses all his energy on moving his heavy, aching arms so he can pull free of Oikawa’s grip and slide his hands into his hair. Oikawa looks down at him curiously, waits for him to speak – but he can't, isn’t even sure what he wants to say.

“You sure you’re okay?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi pulls his head down, presses his lips to the other's forehead and mumbles, “I just... I need...”

“We're right here, Hajime,” he says quietly.

He slips out of Iwaizumi's hold, but only so he can curl up at his side, head on his shoulder and helping him wrap an arm around him. Suga follows suit on his other side, laying a little higher so he can press tiny, gentle kisses to his cheek, his tear-damp temple. Slowly, Iwaizumi starts to relax. This - this is what he wants; to be able to touch them, hold them, feel their bodies under his hands. This is good. This is perfect.

“Talk to us, love,” Suga says. “You’re not normally like this.”

Iwaizumi swallows. “I'm okay. I'm okay. I just... I just want to touch you.”

“You didn’t like the cuffs?”

“I-I did… I mean, I didn’t _not_ like them…”

Suga cuts him off with a kiss, tilting his head towards him with gentle fingers. When they break apart, Suga smiles and says, “It's alright, Hajime. We won’t use them on you again.”

“I like being able to touch you,” Iwaizumi says honestly.

“So do we.” Oikawa snuggles against him, bringing a knee up to rest over his hip and sliding a hand comfortingly across his chest. His thumb catches a nipple accidentally – Iwaizumi flinches, and Oikawa whispers an apology.

“Everything else was okay?” Suga asks.

Iwaizumi hums. Suga traces a finger over his lips almost absently, except Iwaizumi knows it’s not, because almost nothing Suga does is without purpose. The finger trails down his jaw, his throat, his chest, coming dangerously close to where he’s sore, and Iwaizumi swallows.

“Just okay?”

He can feel the smile against his cheekbone, and hates that he starts to blush reflexively. There’s no doubt Suga can feel the heat radiating off him, no matter how nonchalant he tries to be.

“Good.”

Suga laughs, and Oikawa huffs, “You wound us, Iwa-chan. Name the last time you came four times in a row.”

“Did the first two even really count?”

Oikawa lifts his head, glares. “I put a lot of effort into those two, thank you very much. My hand was cramping something awful but did you hear me complain? No, because –”

“I’m very grateful for your sacrifice, Tooru,” Iwaizumi interrupts with a tired smile.

“Hmm.” Oikawa settles back down, nuzzling against his chest. “I should think so.”

Iwaizumi reaches up, cards through Oikawa’s hair. Oikawa sighs and, as Suga breathes softly against his cheek, Iwaizumi watches as he slowly descends into sleep. He won’t sleep for long – the general stickiness of three bodies post-sex will wake him soon enough – but for the moment, he’s relaxed and warm and comfortable under Iwaizumi’s arm, and the sight makes Iwaizumi’s heart swell.

“You really do look so good together,” Suga says quietly.

Iwaizumi smiles. “Yeah. But we look better with you.”

When Suga doesn’t respond, he looks up. He catches a glimpse of the other’s flushed face before it’s buried forcefully in the crook of his neck. He doesn’t say anything, just tangles the fingers of his free hand in the other’s hair and rubs his thumb over the base of his neck.

It’s a long minute before Suga shifts, raises his head to look at him with a fond, weak smile.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, angel.”

Suga leans in for a kiss, brief and gentle, and then asks, “You enjoyed tonight?”

“Of course. You know I would have said something if I didn’t.”

“Sooo… we could do it again? Sans handcuffs, obviously.”

“I…” A deep, heavy blush sets on his face, down his chest, at the mere thought of having that vibrator inside him again – or, fuck, one of the others in their collection; something bigger, more powerful. “Y-Yeah, sure…”

Suga laughs. “We’ll make a bottom out of you yet, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Iwaizumi snorts, drags Suga down to plant a kiss on his cheeks. The sudden movement jostles Oikawa, waking him with a surprised little sound.

“Wha…” he mumbles, brow creased in confusion as he flicks his gaze between his boyfriends.

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi says. “But now that you’re awake, we should probably clean up.”

As Oikawa whines, Suga taps him lightly on the head and says, “He’s right, come on. And then we can sleep. Oh, and Hajime?”

He glances at him, smiles brightly despite the exhaustion evident in his heavy-lidded eyes. “Happy birthday.”

Oikawa hums, leans up to press his lips to Iwaizumi’s jaw in an approximation of a kiss. “Happy birthday, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi looks between them as they help each other off the bed – dishevelled, a little unsteady, all long limbs and lean bodies in soft light, so utterly gorgeous and so entirely _his_.

He’s never going to understand just how he got _so fucking lucky_.


End file.
